Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“It does to me. You have limits. Someone broke them.”
“I don’t have limits tonight.”
“Except one night. And that creates a limit for me. I won’t take you too far and find out it’s too far too late to turn back time. Consider that my new hard limit, added to my promise to make you want more than tonight. Because I do.”
“If you plan to treat me like a delicate flower, this ends now.”
“I don’t do delicate flowers, sweetheart. Cowering females don’t get me off. But you aren’t that, and you do. You get me off, Faith. But submission isn’t weak. It’s fearless. It’s pleasure. But it’s also trust. You have to trust me like I did you with the knife. Trust for trust.”
“That’s why you let me use that knife.”
“I gave you what I give no one. My submission.”
She laughs. “That wasn’t submission.”
“As close as you’ll ever get from me. But that’s not what you want from me anyway, now is it?”
“No,” she whispers. “It isn’t.”
“And I want your trust, but I’m not demanding it. I’m asking you to let me earn it.”
“You’re asking?”
“Yes. I’m asking. Do what I say, but tell me to stop at any time. Just say stop. Or no. Or whatever language you want to use. I’m not the man who’ll tell you no means yes. Understand?”
“I understand that you are not what I expected.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“That’s a good answer. Because you shouldn’t, and if you did, you wouldn’t be the woman that has me this fucking hard.” I lean in and brush my lips over hers, licking into her mouth, before I add, “You taste like temptation, and I am never tempted.” I inhale. “And you smell like amber and vanilla, not flowers tonight. This suits you better than the flowers.”
She breathes out with those words, her face lowering as if I’ve punched her in the chest. I release her wrist and cup her face. “What was that?”
“You talk too much and ask questions I don’t invite. Fuck me or leave.”
Her tone is defensive, but I’ve observed and pushed enough people in depositions and in the courtroom to know torment when I see it. And I don’t like where torment leads us. I don’t want to be there with her right now. “You’re right. Too many words.” I rotate her and press my hands to her shoulders, stepping into her, lowering my head. “Trust for trust. On your knees, Faith.”
She inhales deeply, but she does as I order, kneeling in front of me, and her spine is straight, her hands on her knees. A submissive position, and more and more, I am curious about her past, her sexual coming of age that she then denied until tonight. I squat behind her, stroking her hair away from her neck, my hand on her naked shoulder, my lips at her ear. “I own your pleasure for the rest of the night.” I brush my lips over her earlobe. “And we’re going to start by getting you out of your own head.” My lips trail down her neck to her shoulder, where my teeth scrape before my tongue soothes that bite. “A nice guy doesn’t bite.”
“And you’re not a nice guy,” she whispers.
“Nice guys are boring,” I say, caressing down her arm and back up again, my fingers stroking the edge of her breast in both directions, “but you already know that, now don’t you?”
“But safe. They’re safe.”
“Like I said”—I gently tease her nipple—“you didn’t want a nice guy.” I cup her breast and meld it to my palm, two fingers tugging at her nipple. She reaches up to cup my hand, something I’ve noticed she does often, and I lean into her. “You don’t touch me unless I tell you to touch me.”
“I want to touch you, Nick.”
“And I want you to touch me, sweetheart. But not yet. Now, you let me take you where you want to go. Put your hands on the stool.”
She pants out a breath and does as I command, her palms flattening in front of her, and I notice her nails, a simple gloss, not manicured and fake. I don’t think she’s fake. Just guarded. I cup her face and lean around her. “Don’t move,” I murmur against her lips, kissing her, a slow lick of tongue against tongue before I release her, standing and removing a condom from my wallet. I tear it open, making sure she hears it, that she knows she doesn’t have to think. I’m protecting her. I shove the package back into my pocket and unzip my pants, rolling the condom over my painfully thick erection, but I leave my pants on, removing the ease of slipping inside her, which is tempting, but now is not that time.
I go down on a knee beside her, my hands on her lower back and slender belly. “Elbows on the stool,” I order, and the moment she complies, I lift her hips, placing her on all fours, my hand on her lower back, my lips pressing between her shoulder blades. She arches forward, and I reach under her, teasing one of her nipples, my hand sliding to her backside. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”